


eccedentesiast

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27238054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: "He pulled his head away and hesitated, his breathing unsteady. “Yes, Rose, I lied. I would put you having your face stolen quite far down on the list of my favourite gallivants with you.”"Ten x Rose, missing scene set afterthe Idiot's Lantern.Angst, hurt/comfort
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	eccedentesiast

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue prompt: "Is that why you were nervous?"

“Doctor?”

“Mmm?”

“My feet are _killing_ me.”

She’d put her glass down on the nearest surface and shifted her weight to her left leg. He looked down at her pink heels and raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of telling me you’ve, quite literally, _danced your feet off_ and you want to go home?”

“It most certainly is.”

He put down his own drink and stuffed a few _Dip-Dabs_ in his pocket. And a couple of chocolate _Hobnobs_ and one or two _Capri-Suns_ in the other. And one last slice of cake for the road. “C’mon then. Let’s go.”

She limped over to him and he tilted his head in bemusement. “Here, give your shoes to me.”

“I don’t think they’re your size.”

“Bugger.” He clicked his fingers and held out his arm. She linked hers with his, giggling at his impatience with her slow hobbling but she persisted, nonetheless. They weren’t parked that far away anyway, and she was sure she could make it; she’d certainly done more than her fair share of nights out at London Bridge with Shireen and the girls. She was mostly worried that _he_ wouldn’t make it back without losing his patience entirely and bringing the TARDIS to come and collect her.

It must not have taken them longer than 15 minutes to walk back, at least 13 of which Rose walked barefoot when she’d decided she really _couldn’t_ take it any longer. She _had_ asked for a piggy-back, but it had been sadly met with a swift decline. They were both quite tired, chatting away as usual but with less vibrancy. She liked these times, though; when they just walked together, arm in arm, the occasional contented hums and soft chuckles and they chatted about nothing in particular.

They finally reached the TARDIS and he pulled out his key. Rose took one last look up at the sky; it was a clear night with a bright moon she’d been marvelling at all evening. She sighed wistfully. “The moon is _gorgeous_ tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so clearly.”

“That’ll be the smog of modern-day London hiding it from view.”

“Mmm, lovely.”

He held the door open for her and she shuffled inside. “I’ll tell you what, though. If you like _that_ moon, let me take you to see the Supermoon of ’48. _Oh_ it’s beautiful! C’mon, you _have_ to see it.”

Rose put her shoes down and turned to look at him in despair. “What, right now?”

“Yep! Let’s go!”

“Doctor, I’m about ready to fall asleep there on that jumpseat, if I can even _make_ it to that jumpseat.”

“Na, I’ll park us up somewhere and we can see it right here on our doorstep. I’ll get a fresh pot going and I’ve got a hefty amount of _Hobnobs_ and _Dip-Dabs_ in my pockets.”

She sighed halfway through unzipping of her jacket, before she pulled the zip back up. “Alright. S’pose a girl can’t say no to a trip to the ‘40s when it's offered to her.”

“Exactly!” He beamed, setting the TARDIS into motion as she took her tights off. Could have done with a quick shave this morning, she thought to herself, but it’ll do. She folded the tights over the back of the jumpseat, which she had to promptly cling to in the violent repercussions of his hazardous parking skills.

They’d landed up high, perched on a hill somewhere overlooking the soft golden glow of a breathtaking cityscape - Athens, she believed. The sky engulfed them, similar to the one they had only moments ago been standing beneath, but with much a sharper contrast between the inky black sky and the bright silver specks of its starlight. The moon was a brilliant crisp white, hovering a little north of her resting visual angle. Silence encompassed them and she closed her eyes to listen out for even the faintest sound that might disprove they were standing in the vacuum itself. Judging by the cooler temperature and the slightly damp grass under her feet, she imagined they were on the cusp of winter, the absence of cicadas as they huddled underground in the approaching frost, although not too chilly that she needed more than her jacket. “It’s beautiful.” She managed.

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” his voice rose from beside her. “One of my favourite supermoons, actually. I’ve seen it a couple of times and I always think it’s spectacular. And the weather here in Greece is fantastic this time of year, too. Perfect for a night picnic, wouldn’t you say?” he added, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She looked back at him in disbelief. “Doctor, I’m stuffed. I think I’ve been continuously shovelling food into my gob since 4 o’clock this afternoon.”

“Sounds like a great afternoon, why stop now?” He pulled out a _Dip Dab_ and handed her one, smirking when she took it after little to no protest.

She narrowed her eyes, studying the moon a little closer. It _was_ beautiful, she couldn’t deny that, and she almost didn’t want to say anything to disparage the moment. “I thought it’d be a bit… bigger?”

“Yes, well, that makes two of us, because _I_ thought it’d be 1948 but I think we're at some point in the 19th century.”

She looked at him, not even remotely surprised. “So is this the _second_ time today you’ve brought me to the wrong place?”

“No!”

“Elvis? New York? Or have you already forgotten?”

“That was the wrong _place_ , yes. This is the wrong _time_. Had every intention of bringing you to Athens and in Athens we stand, do we not?”

She chuckled, and in response so did he. They watched each other for a moment, smiles prolonged by the sight of the other’s. Then she looked up at the sky, at the moon and the gorgeous pitter-patter of silver moondust rippling around it. Her gaze feathered down to the horizon, across the fiery lights of the city before them. She couldn’t picture the moment they would decide enough was enough of this view; for the foreseeable future, it was exactly where she wanted to be.

But goodness was she bloody uncomfortable in that dress.

She nudged him. “Right, do me a favour, will you? Unzip my dress for me, I can’t breathe in anymore.”

“Have you only been breathing out this whole time?”

“Ha. Hilarious. Now shut up and unzip me, before I perish under this bright full moon.”

He nodded sharply and she turned to face away from him. “Leave the clasp fixed at the top, though,” she added hastily, needing at least something to keep her dress up she felt him drag the zip down. She revelled in the blissful moment she was released from the pinch of her waist. “Ta. God, that's so much better. Beautiful dress, but bloody uncomfortable.”

“Mmm, yeah it was a nice dress,” he hummed distractedly. “You did look beautiful today. Well, every day I suppose.”

She scoffed in an attempt to cool the heat spreading to her cheeks. “Makes a nice change from “ _for a human_ ”.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “Is that really the last time I told you you were beautiful?”

“Think so.”

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, that’s a shame. I’ll put up a sticker chart in the kitchen to remind myself to each day.”

“So you should. Except when I’ve just woken up with crusty eyes and nest hair, might let you keep it to yourself those days.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, not your best look.”

She poked his ribs and he grinned. He shrugged off his coat and fanned it out on the grass, plonking himself down and she joined him - a little more gracefully - her dress billowing around her as she did. He swatted it down and they spent a few more minutes in a comfortable silence, interrupted by the occasional soft sigh from one of the other in a shared solitude so peaceful. He fell back to lie down, toeing off his converse and she put her hands out behind her to lean back.

For her part, the silence started to become uncomfortable. It wasn’t so much that the day had frightened her; it had, of course, unnerved her, but normally they’d check in with each other after a particularly difficult day and make sure they were both alright. Tonight, however, felt different. The air was a little tenser, and she’d realised at some point during the festivities that afternoon that it wasn’t always made so by her. She chewed nervously at the inside of her cheek.

“I could hear you. Back in… wherever it was I was in. When I was- well, y’know, without” - she exhaled, pausing to compose herself before continuing - “I could still hear everything.”

He was behind her so she couldn’t see his reaction, but he was quiet. Not even a flinch, so she could tell he was paying close attention to his response.

She continued, a little cautiously. “Never heard you get so angry before.”

“I don’t make a habit of it. It’s not the brightest of colours on me.”

She fiddled with the hem of her dress. She wasn’t about to tell him how frightening it was, hearing him descend into fury, and the conversation of what becomes of him when he loses her was one she should save for another day. She leaned forward and looked out at the sky, contemplating the sheer magnitude of it. She shook her head in awe; she could see all of time and space and still find a night sky on Earth to be mesmerising. No place like home, maybe.

She allowed it to blanket her, to comfort her for a few minutes. She’d been so soothed by the feeling that she jumped to see the Doctor was now sitting upright next to her.

“Oh! Hello."

“Hello.”

“Come to join me up here, have you?”

He scrunched up his nose and sniffed. “Just don’t like staring at the back of your head. Bit boring.”

“And after all that effort I put into my hair this morning and everything.”

He raised an eyebrow. “After all the effort _I_ put into your hair this morning.”

“Holding my hair in place while I stick bobby pins in it does not count as “effort”.”

A moment’s silence. He was looking straight ahead steadily, but she could see him hesitating, wavering. Confronting an inner turmoil, perhaps. “I suppose I didn’t much like not being able to see your face, either.”

Rose knew how to cheer the Doctor up by now. It wasn’t often, but she’d seen him be affected by horrors on their travels and she knew that, as much as he enjoyed a laugh to ease his tension, most of the time he needed to be left be, his comfort stemming from knowing that she was around, knowing she was nearby. Rose? She needed comfort after a particularly harrowing day, maybe a cup of tea and a few giggles herself, and she’d almost certainly always want him there with her, and he knew that by now. She supposed that’s what he was doing now, by bringing her somewhere quiet and being right there besides her as she unravelled. But when she looked at him now, she didn’t see unease. She couldn’t spot the tell-tale signs of his tension. No, it had reached deeper than that, she realised, as she studied his face. He was unnerved, too.

In fact, she realised, he had been terrified.

She’d never seen him so. Not even when he was about to die, because even then he seemed comforted by at least _something_ , like he had accepted what was about to happen and wasn’t afraid. She’d imagined he would have been angry today, which he was. And she’d imagined he would have stopped at nothing to get her back, which he didn’t. But he was so happy to see her by the end of it, and so merry during the celebrations at the Florizel street party that she didn’t consider that perhaps he _wasn’t_ alright. Well, she did, but certainly not to _this_ extent. And for that, she felt awful.

It surprised her to see he’d been looking at her. But in a very determined way, like he was looking _at_ her. Her individual features rather than as a whole: her cheeks, her eyes, her nose. His brow was furrowed fixedly, but his eyes were haunted. She’d never seen him look so… _nervous_. That was it! She hadn’t been able to put her finger on it all evening. Dancing away on those cobbled streets and having a lark, there was just something a little... _off_ with him. He’d been jittery; an excitable energy with an underlying _apprehensive_ quality, as opposed to in his usual carefree manner.

“Is that why you were so nervous earlier?” she asked.

He relaxed his face as he was pulled back to them, then after a moment’s composure, his brow furrowed once more. “Was I?”

She picked at the grass, splitting each blade into the thinnest strips she could make before tossing them back out to the turf. “Mmm. Yeah. Dunno, s’like, you just seemed a bit more worried. Like when I went off talking to that couple at number 57, you seemed quite relieved when you found me, like you’d been a bit more worried when you didn’t know where I was.”

His gaze flickered back to the stars. He didn’t reply to her.

She shifted awkwardly, finally turning to look at him properly. “Doctor, what’s going on?”

“Nothing! I’m alright, always am. You know that.” He looked at her then, flashing her a reassuring grin that she could have believed true, if it weren’t for her knowing him so well by now.

She scoffed. “If I had a quid for every time you said you were alright when you weren’t.”

He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to say something, but it was as though the words either didn’t reach him or he was unable to speak them. She watched as he looked down nervously, his eyelids fluttering as he searched for something that wasn’t perceivable to the eye, before he slowly turned to look back at her.

She couldn’t put into words just exactly _how_ he’d been looking at her that evening; the small glimpses she caught of distress before he managed to realign himself. He’d seen her without her _face_ today; she couldn’t imagine what that must have done to him. She shuffled closer to him and he smiled sadly as she linked her arm through his, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“What did I _just_ say about not being able to see your face?”

She laughed, relieved to hear the, albeit faint, teasing in his voice. “I’ll print a picture of it out and pin it next to your sticker chart.”

“Rose,” he pleaded, before softening his voice. “It’s just, a bit _too_ soon.”

She shivered, tightening her hold on his arm and he gently nudged her.

“How are you, though? Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice now closer to her ear as he’d ducked to rest his head atop hers.

She nudged his arm with her nose. “You know you’ve asked me this seven times tonight, right?”

He laughed, lifting his arm off the floor to lace his fingers through hers and resting them both on his knee. “Yes, but that was back when we were bopping away with not a care in the world. And one of those times was when you lost your balance on those heels of yours. _And_ one was-“

“Alright, I get it.” She felt him grin into her hair. “‘M fine.”

He sighed. “And you complain at _me_ for lying- ”

“Ha! So you _were_ lying!”

He pulled his head away and hesitated, his breathing unsteady. “Yes, Rose, I lied. I would put you having your _face stolen_ quite far down on the list of my favourite gallivants with you.”

His forthrightness surprised her, and she pulled back to look at him. But he wasn’t frustrated like she’d thought he was; she knew that much when she saw he’d closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in anguish. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered it so quietly, so sincerely that she felt a lump forming in her throat. She knew him well enough by now to know that he would have despised showing her how much this had affected _him_ when it was something that had happened to _her_.

“It’s ok,” she spoke softly in return. She looked out over the valley, thinking about what she wanted to say next. She kept her focus on the city and chewed her lip as she sought some way that might comfort him in an uncharted territory she wasn’t sure how to navigate.

She was about to start when she felt the slightest brush of his fingers against her cheek. So very gently, so tenderly that she seemed powerless to prevent the small sigh that escaped her lips. Her face broke at the contact, and it was then that she realised how tightly drawn together her features had become in her own anxiety. He’d pulled his hand away in apprehension, although not entirely as it hovered just over her skin. So she took it, holding it in her own. She held it to her face, taking one final look at his tormented eyes before she closed hers.

Rose discovered that evening that it was different, when the Doctor was afraid. It wasn’t that he needed her to be close by; he needed her to be there with him.


End file.
